


Firework Arrow

by hawksonfire



Series: MCU Kink Bingo Round 3 2019 [15]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, Captain America Sam Wilson, Cock Rings, Crying During Sex, Dom Sam Wilson, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Control, Sub Clint Barton, Team Leader Sam Wilson, Vibrators, authority kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 11:29:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18637246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/pseuds/hawksonfire
Summary: Clint blames the firework arrow. He doesn't regret a thing, but he blames the firework arrow.





	Firework Arrow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for MCU Kink Bingo Round 3 Square G2 - Authority Kink.

**Clint**

Okay, so Clint may have a _little_ thing for Sam as Captain America. Like, just a teensy weensy itty bitty little crush on him. Don’t get him wrong, Clint loves Sam with all his heart, okay, but there’s just something about hearing Sam’s voice in Cap mode over the comms that gets Clint ready and raring to go every. Single. Time. It’s really not fair.

“Hawkeye, do you have a visual on the target?” See? There he goes again, being all authoritaty and stuff - “Hawkeye!”

“What - oh, yeah! Sorry, Cap! Visual on target confirmed, six bogeys at my three o’clock -” Clint nocks an arrow and fires, grinning at the resulting explosion. “Make that three bogeys at my three, and I have a shot on the Alpha. Permission to fire?”

“Granted. Light ‘em up, Hawkeye.” Sam says over the comms - Clint can hear the grin in his voice.

“Yes!” Clint pumps his fist and grabs his new arrow. “Perfect opportunity to try out the new arrow Stark made me!”

“Hawkeye, the field is not the time to test new arrows -” Clint fires and lets out a whoop as the arrow flies directly into the glowing jewel in the center of the Alpha’s forehead, exploding its head and setting off fireworks as the arrow activates.

“Barton, was that a firework arrow?” Sam barks.

“Yeah, it was, did you see that thing?” Clint shouts with joy, laughing. “An excellent end to the fight, I’d say.”

“Back to the jet. Now, Hawkeye,” Sam says firmly.

“Sir, yes sir,” Clint says, scaling down the side of the building he was on and jogging back to the Quinjet. “You called, Cap?” He puts his bow on a seat and sprawls beside it, grinning up at Sam.

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong,” Sam starts, and Clint straightens up. Shit, he’s in trouble. “But did I not say on the _last_ mission, that the field was no place to test new arrows?”

“Well, yeah but -”

“And did I not also say,” Sam continues like Clint hadn’t even spoken, “That if you ever did something like that again, there would be consequences?” Clint swallows audibly and nods. “Use your words, Clint,” Sam barks.

“Uh, yessir,” Clint says weakly. This should probably not be turning him on as much as it is.

“So you remember me saying there would be consequences?” Sam clarifies.

Clint nods again, then says “Yes, sir,” when Sam narrows his eyes.

“And yet you defied my direct orders _anyway_ ?” Clint is in _so_ much trouble.

“In my defence, sir, you did say I had permission to fire,” Clint tries, wilting under Sam’s glare. “And I had tested the new arrow already, just not in the field.”

Sam’s lip curls. “Well, I suppose if you tested it already, everything’s fine, then, isn’t it?” Clint blinks at him. Sam turns off his comm and leans down, turning Clint’s off as well, before saying, “We’ll talk about this more once we get home.” Clint whimpers at his tone. “Everyone back to the jet,” Sam says firmly, turning his comm back on.

Clint scrambles onto a seat and pulls his bow over his lap to hide the erection straining at his tac pants. The rest of the team files onto the jet and perhaps sensing the tension between Sam and Clint, doesn’t fill the jet with shitty jokes and banter like they usually do. Clint spends the flight home in a daze, absently stroking his bow and struggling to keep his dirty thoughts in control. When they arrive, everyone splits off to do their own thing, but Clint is stuck on the jet until after everyone leaves - unless he wants them all to see his pants situation.

Clint is positive that Sam purposefully takes a long-ass time talking to each member of the team, cracking jokes and having meaningful conversations - all the while Clint is _suffering_ with his bow over his lap. He’s practically whimpering by the time Sam lets Tony go with a clap on the back.

“Waiting for something, Barton?” Sam says, raising an eyebrow. Clint shakes his head. “Well, get up then! I have to shut the jet down.” Clint gets up and starts to walk off the jet, holding his bow in front of his crotch. “Here, gimme your bow. I’ll bring it down once I’m done.” Clint stares at Sam, who just stares back unflinchingly, then hands over his bow and practically races to the elevator.

“Agent Barton,” JARVIS says once Clint is inside their apartment.

“Yeah, J, what is it?”

“Captain Wilson requests that you be ready for him once he arrives, stating that there would be consequences if you did not comply. He says the usual rules are in effect.” Clint gulps.

“Tell him I said yes sir, J,” Clint says, already stripping out of his uniform. He rushes through his shower, only giving himself the barest amount of prep before wrapping himself in a towel and rushing into the bedroom.

“I said be ready for me,” Sam says sternly, standing with his arms crossed. Clint whimpers.

He drops to his knees in front of Sam and says, “I’m sorry, sir, I tried to be quick. But I couldn’t prep myself all the way and be done in time. I’m sorry.”

Sam puts a hand on Clint’s head and clucks his tongue. “That’s a shame, pet. I had something really fun planned for us today, too.” Clint doesn’t react. Sam pats him on the head and goes into the bathroom, humming under his breath. Clint shifts slightly on the carpet, trying to get comfortable as Sam turns on the shower.

Clint hates this part. The waiting. He already has trouble sitting still for long, and it’s even harder for him to do outside of subspace. But Sam knows that. So Clint takes a deep breath and settles back on his haunches, breathing in and out through his nose steadily. The time slips away and before he knows it, Sam’s back in front of him with a hand on his head.

“Were you good?” Sam asks.

Clint nods. “Yes sir, I promise.”

Sam tugs on Clint’s hair and Clint stands up, letting the towel fall away from his body. “Hmmm,” Sam mutters, walking around Clint. Clint lets himself be examined, already starting to drift. “Knees.” Sam’s voice is like a thundercrack, and Clint drops to his knees without a second thought, barely even wincing at the thud they make when they hit the carpeted floor. “I think,” Sam says softly - he’s using his Cap voice again and Clint barely holds in a whimper, “that you should touch yourself and I should tell you how.”

Clint whines.

“You like that idea?” Sam chuckles, running a nail over Clint’s stomach muscles. His abdomen jumps underneath the slight sting and Clint’s dick twitches, already standing at attention. “On the bed.”

Clint scrambles to do as he’s told, climbing onto the bed and sitting in the middle hands on his knees. “What now, sir?” He asks.

“Impatient, are we?” Sam says, raising an eyebrow. “That won’t do.” He reaches out and twists one of Clint’s nipples savagely and Clint moans, long and low.

Sam lets go and Clint sags. “Thank you, sir,” He says, panting.

“Anytime, pet,” Sam murmurs, settling into the armchair beside the bed. “Lay back on the pillows, pet, and stroke your pretty cock twice for me.”

Clint does as he’s told, groaning at the friction on his dick. “Feels good, sir,” he pants.

“Quiet for now, pet,” Sam says sharply. Clint’s mouth snaps shut. “Now, I want you to _slowly_ move your hand from root to tip, and move your thumb over your slit when you get to the tip.” Clint moves his hand and has to bite his lip to keep in the whine that wants to come out, his hips bucking as he reaches his tip.

Sam’s eyes are glued to his cock, watching the little beads of pre-come slick the way as his hand moves.  He’s silent and staring for about a minute and Clint is about to whine and risk the consequences when Sam meets his eyes. “Aw,” Sam says, smiling slightly, “Poor pet’s not being stimulated enough, right?” Clint nods furiously. “Well, we can’t have that,” Sam says, and he reaches into the drawer beside him and pulls out a cock ring and a vibrator.

Clint whines at the sight, choking himself off halfway through as he catches himself. His eyes widen in horror and Sam clucks his tongue in disappointment. “Well, that’s not good, pet,” he says, getting up from the chair. He walks over to the bed and slides the cock ring onto Clint’s length, fitting it snugly over his balls. “Now I have to punish you, and we can’t just enjoy this anymore.”

Clint shakes his head furiously, tears beading in his eyes. Sam tuts and smoothes a hand through Clint’s hair. “It’s okay pet, I know you didn’t mean to. You just get overwhelmed sometimes, right? It’s hard to keep all the rules straight.” Clint nods, a tear slipping down his face. “Well, I’ll make it easier on you, then,” Sam says, turning on the vibrator. “You can make all the noise you like but you can’t come until I do, and you have to keep your hands on the headboard.”

“Thank you, sir,” Clint gasps, hands flying to the headboard, “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“I know you will, pet,” Sam soothes. He touches the vibrator to Clint’s cock and Clint howls, his hips bucking as he tries to gets away and closer at the same time. Sam is merciless, running the vibrator down Clint’s cock to his balls, behind those to his perineum and even holding the toy against his hole for a few seconds.

After a minute of this, Clint is begging Sam to let him come. “Please sir, let me help you I would do such a good job you always say I do such a good job taking your cock please let me help you come!”

Sam strokes his dick luxuriously, grinning down at Clint’s tear-stained face. “You’re so pretty when you’re all worked up like this, pet,” he croons, running the vibrator over Clint’s slit. Clint gasps and his hands scrabble against the headboard. “All flushed and sweaty, tears in your eyes.” His breath quickens and his hand moves faster on his cock.

“Please sir,” Clint cries, tears streaming freely down his face now, “I just wanna be good for you!” Sam curses and folds over his hand as he comes, his seed landing on Clint’s torso and pooling on his stomach. He pulls the cock ring off Clint’s now nearly purple cock and growls, “Come for me, pet.”

Clint screams and arches off the bed, ropes of come shooting out of his cock and mingling with Sam’s seed on his chest and stomach. The waves of pleasure slam into Clint and he groans breathlessly, his body twitching as Sam keeps the vibrator pressed against his cock. “Sir, please,” Clint moans, hands still clenched on the headboard, cock laying soft and spent on his thigh, twitching weakly from overstimulation.

“Sorry, pet,” Sam croons, turning the toy off and grabbing a damp cloth. “You were so good, pet, made me so happy.”

Clint smiles weakly. Sam grabs ahold of his wrists gently and pulls them away from the headboard, massaging the joints softly. “Thank you, sir,” Clint slurs, eyes slipping shut.

“Always. Love you, Clint,” Sams says, pressing a kiss to Clint’s forehead and climbing into bed beside him. Clint curls into his side, smiling.

“Love you too, Sammy.” Clint drifts off to sleep, firmly resolving to test more new arrows in the field if this is what it gets him every time.


End file.
